


skin-walkers in the kitchen

by alileely



Series: a little wonder's 23 days of wonder entries [7]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Bedtime Stories, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, and a sprinkle of markhyuck, for a lil razzle dazzle, soft cuddly jihyuck, there's chocolate cake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28070097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alileely/pseuds/alileely
Summary: Jaemin always told Jisung a bedtime story. But this time, Jaemin was away. Haechan was there, however, and he wasn't going to tell Jisung a bedtime story without having a little fun of his own. And maybe a slice of cake.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: a little wonder's 23 days of wonder entries [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048756
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	skin-walkers in the kitchen

"Can I have a slice of cake from the fridge?"

Jisung was not allowed to eat cake after dinner. That was the one thing that Mark asked him. But this was Haechan, and he tended to be a bit more lenient. He always played well with the younger ones — that is, him and Chenle. Mark did, too, but he always had that big brother vibe about him. Haechan, on the other hand, was more like a twin brother, sometimes even a younger brother. Or a pet, Jisung thought.

"What's the rule?" Haechan said sternly, and Jisung's shoulders slouched.

He spoke with a sigh and monotonously, as though reciting something from whatever boring, old, dusty textbook Mark had gotten it from, "No cake after dinner."

"That's Mark's rule. My rule is that you have to bring me a slice, too."

Jisung didn't even take the time to be surprised or question him. He just simply jumped up from his seat, vibrating with excitement, and rushed to get a slice of the delicious chocolate cake that Jaemin had brought home earlier that day.

"Ah, but didn't Jaemin say not to eat the cake until he came back?"

"He's at his parents' house, Jisung," Haechan said, almost whined. "He won't be back until Monday. Besides, if we say it's you, he won't mind."

"You're pinning this on me?"

"Hey, you're stuck with just me and Mark this entire weekend and I'm the only one around who would let you eat cake after dinner. So what's it gonna be?"

Jisung pursed his lips, weighing the odds. He could, after all, wait until Monday since he knew Jaemin would gladly let him stuff his face with cake after dinner all he wanted. But then, it was only just Friday and Jisung didn't know if his self-restraint could last for two more days. And he really wanted that cake.

"Okay, fine. But if he gets angry, I'm telling him it was your idea."

"Fine, then I'll tell Mark you ate cake after dinner. Who's scarier when they're angry?"

They both were, if Jisung was going to be honest. But Jaemin rarely got angry at him anyway. Speaking from experience, Mark was a nasty enemy. They had only gotten into a few petty fights, most of them because of their stubbornness, and it made Jisung cry every time. It wasn't his fault he had a soft heart; thankfully, Mark was a softie, too.

"Okay, fine," Jisung relented as he placed a slice of cake on Haechan's plate.

"Eat quickly," Haechan said, poking at his cake with a fork. "Mark's coming home in a few hours and you have to be asleep by then or else we're both getting scolded."

"I'm not a kid anymore."

"That's irrelevant. Mark's word is the law, and he says you should be asleep by 10."

Jisung didn't really have an argument for that. So he finished the cake quickly, trying to savor the silky chocolate that seemed to melt on his tongue and the tooth-aching sugary sweetness. It almost felt like it was over too soon because, the next thing he knew, he was being tucked into bed. Haechan pulled the covers up to make sure he was warm and stood to leave.

"Haechan?"

Not even bothering to turn around, he said, "What is it?"

"Um... Could you..."

Haechan finally turned around to smirk at him. "Aw, does the baby want a kiss good night?"

"No," Jisung snapped, sulking. He crossed his arms like a little kid throwing a tantrum and said, "I told you, I'm not a kid anymore. But..."

"But?"

"Jaemin... always told me a bedtime story."

Haechan could not stop himself from smiling. Jisung was taller than him by a few inches and he had a deep voice that could send shudders down a person's body. But he was a gentle giant, and Haechan so adored the times when he seemed tiny enough to fit into his pocket. This was one of those times, although they weren't exactly few and far in between. Haechan did, however, make it a point to stop himself from cooing at the poor boy, who was already flushed red.

"Alright, move over," he said, relentingly making his way over and sitting on the edge of Jisung's bed. When the young boy moved a little too far from him, Haechan pouted and held out his arms towards him. "Not that far. Come here, let me hug you."

Jisung held his arms up, shielding himself. "No, no, stay away from me!"

Haechan, on the other hand, had a firm grip on Jisung's wrist as he leaned closer, puckering his lips as if tormenting him. "Come on, give me a kiss or else no bedtime story for you."

A small sigh, and then lowered arms as Jisung turned his cheek to Haechan, closed eyes, and let him land a loving kiss on it. Pleased, Haechan finally pulled away and sat back, wrapping Jisung in his arms. Jisung, as much resistance as he pretended to put up, didn't dislike it; in fact, he laid his head on Haechan's shoulder, snug and cozy.

"Maybe I'll just hug you to sleep," he mused, placing his head on top of Jisung's.

"Please just tell me the story and get out."

"Okay, okay," Haechan conceded. Clearing his throat _(he always did that for effect)_ , he began, "One night, there was a young boy lying in bed, just on the verge of falling asleep. He was just about to doze off when something snapped him back to his senses, more awake than ever.

"It was his mother, calling him from downstairs. She wasn't saying anything else, just his name. Over and over, like a broken record. He tried to ignore it. Maybe she would think he was asleep and just let him be. Besides, if it was something really important, surely she would come up to his room and knock, right?

"But she didn't. She just kept calling and calling, and he realized that she wouldn't stop. So, begrudgingly, he got out of bed and went outside. He was just about to go down the stairs when he heard whispering. He stopped, blood running cold. It was coming from the cabinet in the hallway, just a few steps behind him."

Haechan felt Jisung clutch at the sleeves of his shirt tightly. He had to pause for a bit, not wanting to suddenly burst out in a fit of laughter.

"So, he stops. And the whispering voice, it told him to come closer. Come closer, it said, as his mother kept calling him from downstairs. But how could that be? The voice whispering from the cabinet was also his mother's."

"What?" Jisung said, almost trembling in Haechan's arms.

"Shush, I'm not done."

Jisung immediately snapped his mouth shut, wide, scared eyes staring up at Haechan as he hung on every word. Haechan paused for effect. Stories like this needed the pauses, the silences in between to give time for the fear, the sheer and utter terror to sink its claws in — slowly, and deeply, catching its unknowing victim like a mouse to a glue trap.

Jisung was a mouse, and he had both feet stuck in the glue trap.

"Do you know what the voice said?"

"What...?"

One last pause for effect. And then, in a voice so low that it caused Jisung to shudder, he whispered, " _'Don't go down there. I heard it, too.'_ ".

Jisung's eyes were as wide as saucers.

In all honesty, Haechan didn't think the story was scary. He had heard it a thousand times before, and he was lucky that Jisung seemed to have never heard it before in his life. There was pure, unadulterated fear in Jisung's eyes — one that resembled the fear that Haechan felt the first time he heard the story as a kid.

"What, that's it?"

Jisung's pitch was rising, turning his deep voice into something more shrilly, tainted with fear. Haechan patted himself on the back _(figuratively, though he probably would have literally done it if he weren't trying to hide it from him; he could bite it back for a few more months)_.

Haechan abruptly stood up, leaving Jisung cold and scared. He straightened up, resisting the urge to reach out for Haechan and beg him to stay with him until he falls asleep.

"Wait, but what happened to him?" Jisung pleaded.

But Haechan didn't even respond. He only wordlessly walked away and turned off the lights. Before he finally left the room, he turned back to look at Jisung, only the light spilling in from the hallway illuminating him. It painted him in a creepy light, a shadow over his face that sent chills down Jisung's spine.

"Sleep tight, Jisung."

* * *

Jisung woke up late that night.

Groggily, he blinked his eyes open. They felt heavy, and Jisung found it a struggle to keep them open for even a few seconds. Faintly, he could hear something. Some muted sound coming from somewhere inside the dorm. Confusion washed over his body as he propped himself up on his elbows, straining his ears to hear more.

"Jisung?"

He instantly froze. His senses suddenly turning sharp, his mind and body became alert as he listened again. He must have been semi-dreaming because it was 3:00 AM and there was no way in hell that someone would be—

"Jisung?"

_Nope. Nope. Just no._

Jisung laid back down roughly, pulling the blanket over his head. That was Haechan's voice. He was sure of it. _But why the heck would he be calling me at such an ungodly hour?_

"Jisung?"

That one seemed louder than before. Or perhaps his adrenaline was giving him heightened senses. Like a superhero. Did that mean he had superpowers? So if there was some monster or creepy stalker guy out there, then he might be able to pull off something cool like Spider-Man and his stunts or Black Widow and her reflexes or—

"Jisung?"

_Deep breaths, Jisung. Deep breaths, just relax._

Mustering up his courage, Jisung kicked off the blanket and crept towards the door. In his head, the Black Panther theme song was playing.

The hallway was dark and the only light was coming from the kitchen. His feet felt almost like lead, but he dragged his feet laboriously towards the kitchen where he was met by Haechan's figure, back turned to him as he fiddled with something, silverware clinking. Jisung wondered what he was doing, and what in the world he could be cooking at this time.

Jisung inched towards him apprehensively. "H-Haechan... Were you calling me?"

No answer.

"Why are you still awake? Is Mark home yet?"

Silence.

"Haechan?"

"Haechan isn't here."

That was it.

Jisung bolted, slamming his door shut as he hid under the blanket. His heart was pounding in his chest, his fingers clutching Jaemin's metal handle bar for his bike that he had bought just a few days ago. He hadn't even unpacked it, but Jisung figured he wouldn't mind if he told him that there had been a skin-walker inside their kitchen.

* * *

The skin-walker inside their kitchen laughed softly to himself, hunching over in such intense laughter but struggling to keep himself quiet, hand placed firmly against his mouth.

In that moment, he heard the front door unlock.

"Haechan?" Mark called out, peeking into the kitchen as he placed his backpack down on the couch. He didn't even have to ask; the question was written all over his face. He did, anyway, as he ambled towards him, hands buried in his pockets. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing, just cleaning up the dishes."

"Really? At this hour?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know there was a specific time for cleaning the dishes."

Mark giggled like he always did. Sometimes, he could never understand Haechan. Most of the time, he didn't even try. He had come to learn that life was easier that way and Haechan was one of the people you were better off not trying to understand. He just went with his flow all the time because he could either go with the stress or stress about the stress... whatever that meant.

"Alright, well, I'm beat so I'll just go get some sleep."

"Okay, I'll be there in a minute."

"For the hundredth time, Haechan, we are not sleeping together."

"For the hundredth time, Mark, let's not pretend that you can actually fall asleep without me."

Mark groaned as he walked off, probably too tired to start another debate. Haechan listened as his door opened and closed softly, lips stretching into a cheeky smile as he didn't hear the sound of the lock clicking into place.

After placing the dishes back on the rack, he strode purposefully towards the fridge.

He figured he deserved some cake for a prank well done.

**Author's Note:**

> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/alileely) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/alileely)
> 
> Yes, this sucks. Yes, feel free to laugh. Don't worry, I'm laughing too HAJSHSJAH
> 
> Kudos, comments, suggestions, and constructive criticisms would be very much appreciated. And of course, thank you extra much for putting up with this absolute word vomit.
> 
> Sending u hugs ♡


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